Tofu

As I’ve mentioned before vegetarianism and I have a hands-off relationship, much like Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise I imagine.

So it was some trepidation last night that I sampled the bowl of warm tofu placed in front of me. I was out to dinner and this place had come highly recommended as good Japanese fare. As we were both sushi junkies then it looked like an excellent choice and tofu is something of a speciality of the house.

Now I think tofu always caused a mental problem because the stuff you buy in Britain seems to be about as tasty as pencil erasers, with roughly the same consistency. Either that or it’s so rubbery you might as well be chewing badly cured Pirellis.

I’d always assumed its invention was due to famine and soy milk, which is to real milk what the Sinclair C5 is to an Aston Martin, was the only thing available.

But this bowl was a revelation. It was soft and creamy, with a delicious sauce that managed to be both sweet and yet subtly savoury. Add into that the great company and live scallops with soy and wasabi and it was a meal to remember.